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Saturday, January 29, 2011

HOPE is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I ’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

~Emily Dickenson~

I was at work on a break reading a Chicken Soup for the soul pet lover book and the first part of Emilys poem was in it. I have not been able to get it out of my head. I love my poetry, and love to read, so am always at peace when doing so. This little insert have however has gotten stuck, so simple and so true.... hope~~~
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Member Comments About This Blog Post
    I like that Hope asks for nothing and is just fully present!
    Lovely poem, thanks!
    2670 days ago
    I love it, too! Thank you for sharing it! emoticon
    2675 days ago
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